Seduce (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series #3) Page 7

  Antoine chuckled, the sound music to her ears. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  If he meant that he might fulfil that wish, then she would say it however many times it took for him to come good on that threat.

  She quivered from head to toe.

  Who would have thought that being rough could be so good?

  Antoine pulled out of her and she continued to lay on the chaise longue, warm, fuzzy and content. It was only when she heard him moving around the stage that she opened her eyes. He was dressing. She frowned and tried to ignore the demon at the back of her mind that said he was going to kick her out now that he’d had his fun with her.

  He gathered her clothes and she watched him as he picked out her knickers and her blue t-shirt. He knelt on the end of the seat by her feet and slipped her underwear over them and up her thighs. The brief caress of his fingers over the front of her pussy said that he wasn’t going to kick her out just yet so she relaxed again. He ran his hands up her stomach, covered her breasts, and pulled her up onto her knees. His chest pressed against her back and he nibbled her shoulder before pulling away.

  She let him put her t-shirt on for her and then waited while he retrieved the pile of her clothes. Rather than putting the rest on her, he slung them over his shoulder and then motioned for her to stand.

  She did.

  Antoine bent and scooped her up into his arms. She instinctively looped her arms around his neck.

  “Where are we going?” Sera said as he carried her towards the stage exit.

  “Somewhere more private.” He raked his pale blue gaze over her, lingering longest on her bare legs. “I want to be alone with you.”

  Sera’s eyes widened. Meaning they hadn’t been alone the whole time they had been together?

  She looked beyond his broad shoulder and around the stage. There was no way someone could have watched them in here. The red velvet curtain was still down and the stage doors were closed. She would have heard if someone had opened them. Had someone seen them together when they had been in the main area of the theatre? Any number of people could have witnessed everything from the boxes that lined the sides of the theatre and she never would have known.

  Sera blushed.

  She really had put on a show, and not for Antoine.

  They had both been the players in a private performance.

  Heat flared in her veins.

  She buried her head against Antoine’s chest and let him carry her through a black walled room and up a set of stairs to the top floor of the theatre.

  To a beautifully decorated black and gold corridor.

  To his bedroom.

  He set her down outside the mahogany panelled door, opened it for her to enter, and then closed it behind himself.

  She stopped in the middle of his room and turned towards him, heart steady but her body fluttering at the thought of what might happen now.

  Whatever happened, she was glad that it would be private this time.

  She wasn’t done with her seduction yet.

  CHAPTER 7

  Antoine remained with his back against his apartment door, his eyes on Sera as she padded around and snooped at his things. What was he doing? Things had almost gone too far back on the stage. He had come close to losing control. The taste of her blood had triggered thoughts of biting her and only his climax had subdued them. If he bit her, if he wrapped his lips around her open vein, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

  This was dangerous.

  Yet he hadn’t been able to let her leave after she had done her best to seduce him in the theatre seats. He knew he should have. It had been the most sensible course of action open to him. When she had given him a piece of her mind, hurt flashing through the anger in her eyes, and stormed away, he had meant to let her go.

  Only he had ended up blocking her way and forcing her to stay.

  She hadn’t lied when she had confessed that he scared her. It was an easy emotion to sense in anyone, especially a vampire as young as she was. She had broadcasted it clearly. Half of the theatre would have noticed it. Thankfully, their voyeur had left before that point. They hadn’t lingered long in the shadows of one of the boxes during Sera’s attempted seduction. They had watched for barely a few seconds before leaving. They were strong too and he had a suspicion he knew who they were. Although they had masked their signature well, he was too familiar with them for them to fool him.

  He could understand why they had come and checked on him. They had sensed his pain and wanted to protect him.

  What would Sera say if she knew his own brother had witnessed her in all her naked glory?

  She paused next to his bed and wrapped her hands around the carved black post nearest to him. Her smooth creamy legs were a luscious contrast against his deep red silk covers on his king-sized four-poster bed. Would her beautiful blonde wavy hair look just as delicious splayed across his pillow as she slept in his arms?

  He wanted to find out the answer to that question. A foolish pursuit.

  When he had confessed that he didn’t want her to hurt him, she had looked as though she understood, had silently reassured him that she had no such intention. He hoped that had been the truth too, because now that he had tasted her, he wanted more, and he didn’t want to let her go.

  She felt too good, too right, in his arms. Her body fit perfectly against his, the taste of her kisses drove him crazy, and the satin of her caress made him wild. She was dangerous.

  Addictive.

  And wicked too.

  There was innocence in her sometimes that contradicted the vixen she became when under the influence of her passion.

  He liked the dual sides of her. The innocent and the vixen.

  She was the innocent right now, leaning against his bedpost, watching him with wide wary green eyes and a blush on her cheeks. When she looked like that, he wanted to kiss her softly and make love with her, to be as gentle as a lamb so he didn’t hurt such a precious bloom.

  When she became the vixen, torturing him with claw and fang, he wanted to devour every inch of her and take her to her very limit of her wickedness and then send her careening over the edge into a dark bliss with him.

  Which would she be now that they were alone?

  Which did he want her to be?

  He was all too aware that she fed off his behaviour. If he were gentle with her, she would remain that way. If he gave in to his darker urges, then she would too.

  She cast her green gaze around his apartment, taking in the black walls, mahogany furniture, and the gilt-framed paintings. Her eyes lingered on them. Did she like art? He had quite the collection stored in the basement of the theatre in a secure, temperature and humidity controlled vault. In his bedroom, he preferred the works of the Italian masters. Original paintings by Da Vinci, Raphael, Botticelli and Caravaggio decorated his walls.

  He had met some of them, fortunate enough to be alive during the wonderful renaissance period. He had been youthful then and carefree, full of the joys of the world and unaware of the dark times that lay ahead of him. The paintings were his link to those happier years of his life, granting him peace during his more troubled nights or days when images of the past haunted him. He could lose himself in a single piece, mesmerised by the perfection of each brush stroke and touch of colour that brought the scene to life before his eyes.

  “All yours I take it?” Sera said and he nodded.

  She stepped forwards and leaned her back against the carved black bedpost, hands tucked behind her.

  “Even those?” She jerked her chin towards the other corner of his bed.

  Antoine frowned and looked there. A set of thick steel and leather restraints hung with their short chain on the mattress and their cuffs dangling on either side of the bedpost.

  “Those belong to my brother,” he said and she looked relieved. “I keep a set on hand in case he needs them.”

  Her expression shifted, questions surfacing in her eyes that he would rather not answer so he tu
rned away, walked to the chest of drawers that stood against the wall to the left of the door and poured himself a glass of blood. He raised it to his lips and then lowered it again, set it down and fixed her a glass too. Old habits died the hardest. He wasn’t used to drinking with company. Definitely not in his room. He never drank blood with his brother. Snow had a tendency to turn snappish and territorial when he fed, and was prone to lashing out at anyone who tried to come too close to his precious blood.

  Would that be him one day?

  Antoine picked up the two glasses and offered one to Sera. She moved away from the bed, long legs luring his gaze to them and hips swaying just enough to catch his attention. He lifted his gaze back to hers when she took the glass and raised it in a salute.

  She smiled.

  Would she still smile at him when he was savage and unpredictable, lost deep in bloodlust that never relented?

  Would she want to be with him then?

  He still couldn’t believe she wanted to be with him now. Or that he wanted to be with her.

  When he looked at her now, he didn’t see an elite, or a turned human. He saw a beautiful, strong woman who bravely stood up to him and refused to back down. She had seduced him, both his body and his heart.

  His parents would turn in their grave.

  He closed his eyes against the pain that welled up in his chest, choking him, and flinched as the glass in his hand shattered under the pressure of his grip, fragments cutting deep into his palm and fingers.

  “God,” Sera said and he wondered just how young she was that she retained some faith in such a power.

  He mumbled a request to be excused under his breath and went through the door to his left, into the black-tiled bathroom. Blood dripped from his hand and rolled down the sides of the obsidian oval sink. Antoine picked the splinters of glass out, dropping them into the sink to swim amongst the blood, and ignored the scent as it filled his senses and tempted him to taste it. He flicked the gold tap around to cold and ran his hand under the water. The rush of it covered whatever Sera said to him and he glanced up at the mirror to see where she was.

  The moment his eyes found her, the wave of her fear swept past him.

  She stood in the bedroom with her side to him, staring at something.

  Or someone.

  Antoine turned and was in the room with her in under a second, standing between her and whoever had frightened her.

  Snow.

  His brother leaned in the open doorway, thick muscled arms folded across his broad bare chest, his icy blue eyes fixed on Sera. They flicked to him as he came to a halt.

  “You are hurt,” Snow said, his voice a deep rasp that spoke of fatigue.

  He had been disturbing his brother’s rest far too often recently and the Devil only knew that Snow needed all the rest he could get. Battling his bloodlust drained his strength, giving the bastard demon that rode him a chance to overcome his control and send Snow into a feeding frenzy that only worsened his addiction.

  Red ringed his brother’s irises and his eyes tracked downwards, searching for the source of the scent of fresh blood now pervading the room.

  The moment his eyes reached Antoine’s hand, Snow growled and buried his fingers into his white overlong hair, clawing it back so hard that it pulled at his skin. He screwed his face up, his agony palpable in Antoine’s blood, fell to his knees with a harsh thud and curled over into a ball. A deep shudder wracked him and he snarled. His back tensed and arms tautened, every sinew of his muscles visible beneath his skin. Antoine rushed to his side and reached out to touch him, but Snow batted his hand away with such force that Antoine’s arm snapped back and sharp pain buzzed along his bones. He realised his mistake. He had gone to touch him with his cut hand.

  “Antoine?” Sera whispered, her fear colliding with his brother’s agony, tearing him between them.

  Antoine rushed into the bathroom, wrapped a small black towel around his hand, and then came back to Snow. Sera was in no immediate danger. He had to place his brother first.

  “Snow.” Antoine knelt beside him. His brother remained curled up, huge body rocking back and forth, his claws dug so deeply into his scalp that blood stained his white hair red in places. He touched his brother’s wide muscled shoulder and felt it trembling. “Snow?”

  Snow snarled, a tortured sound, one that Antoine had heard far too often.

  “Sera.” He didn’t turn to look at her, couldn’t take his focus off his brother. There was no telling what Snow would do now that he had lost himself to the same horrific memories that haunted Antoine each day and was reliving them.

  Or at least some of them.

  Antoine was sure that others were buried so deeply in his brother’s mind that he couldn’t recall them at all.

  “Yes?” Her voice shook, betraying her fear.

  “The canister,” he said and she moved an instant later, heading for the chest of drawers to his right and grabbing the blood. She didn’t hesitate to approach him, revealing the depth of her bravery. Most women he had met in his lifetime would have made a break for the door, or at least the safety of the bathroom. Not Sera. She had leapt into action, assisting him. Both kind and courageous.

  She became more intoxicating with each new thing he learned about her.

  Sera handed him the canister of blood and he knocked the cap off and lowered it under Snow’s head.

  Snow growled, pained and low, and turned his head to one side, trying to escape it. Antoine persisted, knowing that his brother both needed and didn’t need the blood. It would chase away the memories torturing him but would do so by replacing them with bloodlust, sending his brother into a mindless rage and hunger. It was cruel but it was the only way Antoine could relieve his immediate suffering. When the bloodlust had him in its grip, he would forget everything but his craving. Antoine risked moving the canister closer.

  His brother snatched it, clawing him in the process, and was gone in a flash, retreated into the far corner of the room with his precious prize. He crouched there with his back against the corner, blood streaked white hair obscuring his face, radiating danger that warned Antoine to keep his distance or risk losing a limb or his life.

  Antoine licked the cuts on the back of his hand and rose to his feet. He reached out to Sera, placing his hand on her stomach and guiding her behind him, and eyed the cuffs hanging over the end of the bed and then the distance from them to his brother. Almost equal. If he made a lunge for them, there was a chance that Snow would realise his intent and reach them first. Even if he did manage to grab them, he still had to get them on his brother.

  Snow gulped the blood down, both strong hands locked around the fragile container, knuckles white from the force of his grip. Red rivulets spilled from the corners of his lips and trailed down his chin and neck.

  Antoine needed more blood. Enough to keep Snow occupied long enough for Antoine to get the restraints on him without him noticing.

  “Sera,” Antoine said very slowly and quietly, trying not to draw Snow’s attention to her. “Go into the bathroom and lock the door behind you.”

  “No.”

  It was such a determined response that he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her and frowning.

  “You can’t handle this alone. You don’t have to handle this alone.” She stood resolutely behind him.

  Dangerous words. It was all too tempting to go along with her, to accept her help and accept that she was right in the process. He didn’t have to handle this alone. He could share this burden with her.

  Something that wasn’t going to happen.

  Antoine shoved her so hard that she tripped across the floor and fell into the bathroom, ending up sprawled out rather indecently on the tiled floor. He moved faster than she could, shutting the door and holding it closed.

  “Damn you, Antoine,” she shouted through the solid mahogany.

  Yes. Damn him. Damn him for wanting to protect her from his brother. Damn him for needing to protect her full stop.


  Snow lowered the canister, slowly opened his red eyes and looked up through the bloodstained ribbons of his white hair, fixing his attention on Antoine. He growled and threw the empty vessel at him. It shot towards Antoine with the force of a missile and at a speed that he barely managed to dodge and compacted against the wall, spraying remnants of blood across them.

  Antoine knew what was coming. He dived to his right just as Snow appeared before him and his brother careened into the wall. His impact shook the room. His snarl reverberated through Antoine. Antoine rolled to his feet, skidded to the small refrigerator beside the chest of drawers and pulled the door open. He grabbed another canister of blood.

  Snow inhaled deeply and purred.

  That was not good.

  Antoine’s eyes flicked from his brother to the door right beside him. Sera. She had opened the door and was staring up into Snow’s eyes, her own enormous. Her skin was the colour of moonlight, drained of blood as she stood only a few feet from Snow, within arm’s reach. Snow growled, lips peeling back from his enormous fangs.

  That was not going to happen.

  Antoine launched the canister of blood at Snow, hitting him square in the side of his head and knocking him backwards. Snow roared. Sera shrieked and shot back into the bathroom. Antoine dived for the restraints.

  He grabbed them, growling himself as the chain ended up between the corner of the mattress and the bedpost. He tugged and wriggled them, heart racing and head pounding. Sera was still in danger. Snow had the canister in one hand and was looking between it and the closed bathroom door, his face a picture of pensive darkness. He was trying to decide whether to tap the canister or Sera for blood.

  “Snow,” Antoine shouted, desperate to draw his attention away from Sera.

  This wasn’t going well. He didn’t want to harm his brother, had already been cruel to him by rousing his bloodlust, but he needed to take Snow down. He had to do it. He finally yanked the chain of the restraints free of his bed and then pulled the towel off his hand. He clenched his fist, causing blood to flow from the deep cuts. Snow’s eyes narrowed and his face twisted, distorting in pain once more.